


The Doctor's Wife

by newts_niffler



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Apples, Doctor - Freeform, F/M, Marriage, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, housewife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newts_niffler/pseuds/newts_niffler
Summary: (a/n: please do not judge my use of commas, i still tend to use them exactly as we were taught in first grade, so they function more as conversational pauses then grammatically correct uses of punctuation)(a/n 2: i wrote this as the story of a woman's relationship, where the "you" was the woman herself, a specific character instead of the usual y/n character "you" generally implies, as if she's telling the story back to herself but disconnecting herself from it slightly. so i had a specific person and characterization in mind- I didn't intend for this to be read as a y/n story where the reader is the "you" but you may read and interpret it as you wish haha)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Doctor's Wife

**Author's Note:**

> (a/n: please do not judge my use of commas, i still tend to use them exactly as we were taught in first grade, so they function more as conversational pauses then grammatically correct uses of punctuation)
> 
> (a/n 2: i wrote this as the story of a woman's relationship, where the "you" was the woman herself, a specific character instead of the usual y/n character "you" generally implies, as if she's telling the story back to herself but disconnecting herself from it slightly. so i had a specific person and characterization in mind- I didn't intend for this to be read as a y/n story where the reader is the "you" but you may read and interpret it as you wish haha)

it had always been him. this was something you had known long before he knew even your name. you had admired him from afar at first, until one day you had decided that simply wasn't enough anymore. you had to know him. daisy had laughed at you that day, teasing your stammering sentences and blushing smiles, and yet you needn't have worried- the Doctor had been charmed then, by your lack thereof. it shouldn't have been a surprise really, your mother had always said you were too pretty for any man to ignore.

you had known you were done for the first time he smiled at you. it wasn't the kind of smile you see every day, or ever really. the Doctor's whole face had transformed, and you had been left breathless. looking at him then, you had thought to yourself that god himself must have taken his time creating the man in front of you. and you knew then, there was nothing you wouldn't do to see that smile again.

the Doctor's laughter was a question you wanted to spend the rest of your life answering. and so that is what you did.

you learned what made his eyes light up in poorly concealed amusement, what made him smile despite any efforts to do the opposite, what made him shake with the force of laughter he was fighting desperately to hold in, and with time, you became the very core from which the Doctor's happiness stemmed. it was you who made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks with the brilliance of his smile, who made them crinkle around the edges when he was particularly happy, who made them sparkle with amusement every time you said something you knew he might like.

it was you.

and if god had taken his time in creating the Doctor, the angels had taken twice as much time in creating you to befit him.

you thought the books and songs were right. it really was like falling. there was nothing you could have done beyond holding your arms out and hoping you were caught. and even if you had wanted to, it was not something that you could have stopped. it never had been.

he disagreed. he had said it was like floating. every minute he spent with you, bringing him closer towards the stars, until one day he would be able to reach right over and pluck one out of the sky, to bring down to earth for you. he had looked at you then, a quiet reverence in his eyes. he spoke again some time later, when he had thought you were asleep.

quietly, he told you he could float past the moon and beyond, and still never find a star quite so bright as you. and as the thunder had clapped outside, he had only held you closer, murmuring softly against your skin.

even the sky weeps tears from the heavens, envious of all that i am, for i have a star as bright as you.

he said things like that a lot. he was good with words, the Doctor. and you knew then, that you loved him. but you suppose that even when you had known nothing else at all, you had always known this.

to love is not to know. to love is to close your eyes and allow yourself to plunge off an aeroplane, only knowing you may face death in mere seconds, or you may fall for an eternity and never touch the ground. to love is to find that no silence can be too quiet, for in your silences occur the loudest thoughts of him. to love is to do many things. but to love is not to know. and the Doctor had been far greater than anything you could have ever imagined knowing.

it was you who had stayed with the Doctor the first time he had lost a patient. a middle aged man who had been received unconscious, no longer grasping at threads to hold onto life. his arrival had been delayed by a passing train in the medics path. a soul train, daisy had called it. and you had thought it beautiful, the notion that the strings of fate were constantly pulling to procure destiny. but still, the Doctor had tried to do the impossible, and when the impossible had proved to be as such, he had walked away- leaving a part of him in the cold hands of a man whom he had never been meant to save. he had cried in your arms until the sun came up and you had marveled his compassion and held him. you saw that day, the very beginning of an insurmountable weight he would one day carry on his shoulders.

you see it still, when you catch him lost in his thoughts. when despite his hardest efforts, his smile seems unable to stop from turning down at its corners. when even the brightest of his laughter does not go so far up as to meet his eyes. when the happy crinkles you had once loved, turned into wrinkles of exhaustion, deepened by years of sleep lost to the weight of the world he carried. it had been years since those eyes had shone with anything akin to excitement. it had been years since you had seen any glimpses of the man you had fallen in love with.

still, you loved him with a passion like no other. to say that he is the only one who had changed with time would be false. you too, had grown, burdened by the harsh realities of life.

when the Doctor had asked you to marry him, he had told you your love was epic. he had said it was one to last generations, lifetimes, reincarnations even. he told you he had loved you in each of his past lives, and would love you in all those to come. that no matter how the universe had written your story, you were always meant to find him in the end. that even death itself, had not the power to do you part. that since the beginning of time the fates had known your love was meant to be and to fight it, would be to fight destiny.

and you knew. you knew it in your bones and you knew it in each breath you took and you knew it deep within the very fibers of your being. you knew you had loved him before.

you had not thought it possible, but after marriage you found yourself infinitely more drawn to the Doctor. he had told you one morning, yawningly through a haze of sleep, that if you could have spent your every waking moment with him, still it would not have been enough. he had paused at the door that day, as if to consider staying, but had instead left, laughing as he reminded you that at least one of you had to bring home the money. you hidden your disappointment, but you had understood of course. the Doctor had a real job and responsibilities, and it would not do to keep him at home with you- no matter how much you both may wish for it.

the Doctor had come home that evening looking immensely pleased, and had promptly sent you to run errands. when you returned a few hours later, he had transformed your living room into a restaurant, and told you then, eyes bright with intent, that he had taken a leave for the entirety of a month. you had laughed, running into his arms, giddy at the prospect of days and days of uninterrupted hours with the Doctor.

it was paradise, and you never wanted to leave. so when he held you tight and asked you to stay, you had cancelled all your plans with your friends, telling them stories of sudden illnesses. they had sent teasing responses asking when the newly wedded bliss would finally die out, and you had smiled at the Doctor, knowing the only answer was never. so when he spun you around the room and told you he would never need anyone but you, you had found yourself agreeing, and nothing else in the world had mattered.

it was nearing the end of the Doctor's month that you had had your first argument as a married couple. a conversation about dinner had turned into an argument about indecisivity and soon you found yourself sobbing for what you had thought was simple question. it was only then that you had realized the Doctor was correct, you had always been quite unsure of your decisions, and feeling foolish, you had apologized.

it was after the third argument in as many days, this time provoked by the clanging of a kettle, that you had realized something was wrong. later, the Doctor had smiled wanly and told you it was time for him to return to the hospital, admitting that the very thought of separating from you for even a moment, after all this time, had become almost unbearable. you had cried, knowing while you had been losing sleep over petty arguments, the Doctor had done the same, while instead thinking of his love for you.

you wondered how you had been so lucky as to find someone so loving as the Doctor, and he had smiled at you, murmuring stories of the fates and past lives softly against your skin, as if he had heard the thoughts running through your head.

your father had told you, when you were younger, that your dreams were where your mind went to escape into a world more beautiful than the one in which you lived. perhaps that is why, when you had slept beside the Doctor in those months, your nights were filled with nothingness. your mind hadn't needed to dream an escape, for your actuality had been far better than anything it could have hoped to create.

the Doctor had come home one evening to find you arguing with your mother on the phone, her sharp words having reduced you to tears as she continued to berate you. it had not been unusual, arguing with your mother, but after years of bending to her will you had learned eventually that you would never be enough for her, and the knowledge had shattered you. the doctor had held you, telling you that her love had never mattered, that you didn't need your family to be happy- now you had him, and he was the only family that mattered.

you had wondered sometimes, who you would have been if you had been raised by someone like the Doctor. someone who would have loved and supported you as even your own blood had never.

you had come home one afternoon to find a modestly elegant dress laid out for you, and a note telling you to be ready within the hour. you had smiled, knowing how much the Doctor liked selecting your clothes, and had thought back to your many rendezvous to the shopping centre with the doctor. you adored every aspect of your wardrobe, knowing each individual element had been selected by the Doctor with care, and that just like your love, over time, your closet had grown tenfold.

daisy had frowned when you first told her this, warning you that the Doctor had been known to be fond of control, and after you had laughed away her worry, she had instead taken to teasing you relentlessly, disguising her warnings behind airy remarks and facetious slights- often laughing that you that for all you had dreamt about freedom as a young girl, you had been the first to settle down- happily signing away a lifetime of independence.

you had smiled at her then, knowing she had not yet understood what you knew the moment you had laid eyes on the Doctor. for who needs freedom when there is love?

but you had known, behind even her lightest jabs, there had been mistrust for the Doctor.

you suppose the Doctor had been correct then, in requesting that daisy be removed from your circle of friends.

soon after, you had begun to dream again.

you cannot recall when the apples had first begun, beyond knowing that a particularly hopeless night had evoked the memory of a phrase you used to sing as a young girl. and so, in an effort to maintain any semblance of sanity, and grasping at what had then felt like hope between your fingers, you had brought the apple to your mouth. teeth puncturing through waxy skin as your tears had mixed with the tartness of the fruit. you had found yourself clutching an apple in your hand again the next day, and again the day after that, and before you knew it, in what had become an almost comforting routine, you had found yourself eating an apple every day. 

the first time the Doctor had ever laid a hand on you, it had been after a particularly taxing double shift. he had been frustrated, exhausted, and weighted down by the all the hospital had drained from him, and you had understood. he had apologized profusely, horrified, and had fallen to your feet, sobs raking through his body. and you had held him, having forgiven him without a moment's hesitation, for what is love if not forgiveness? if not understanding? if not support in the darkest moments of one's life? you had known it would not happen again.

you had been wrong, of course.

not about the meaning of love, no, you were more sure of that now than you had ever been. you forgave him still, and supported him through his every mistake. you knew his life's work took more from him than he had left to give, and you knew that despite everything that had happened, he was a good man. a good man under more strain than even the best of men could handle.

and so you covered blackened bruises, sewed through cuts reopened before they had yet begun to heal, and hid tears holding the kind of pain you had once thought impossible. knowing that now more than ever, the Doctor needed you. you had promised him an eternity worth of lifetimes, and you were going to make each one worth living for.

still, you clutched the apple in your hand, hard enough to bruise. knuckles turning white against red, fingers pushing soft indents into firm skin. you knew he didn't mean anything he ever said. he couldn't really, he loved you so much.

staring at yourself in the mirror, body more blue than white, littered in more scars than freckles, you brought your second apple that day up to your lips, trembling under the fluorescent lighting. discarding the core, you pasted a smile on a tear streaked face and walked to the kitchen, ignoring your shaking hands as you heard the front door click open.

the Doctor's wife ate two apples a day, just to be safe. but still her husband kept coming home.


End file.
